THE LAKE IN MOONLIGHT by Moon71
SUMMARY: It's a beautiful summer evening and Hephaestion is frustrated. Can he convince Alexander to break a few rules, just like the other boys?
DISCLAIMER: This story was originally inspired by Jai Sen's beautiful graphic novel "The Golden Vine", in particular Hephaestion's comment "I had eyes only for Alexander" and the boys by the river. However, it's not based upon that book and no copyright infringement is ever intended.
NOTE: I was going to hold back on posting for a while because this is beginning to look like the "Moon 71" website, but I'm having a rough day so if anyone is having the same, hope this cheers you up! Please someone else post lots of stories, this is getting embarrassing...
DEDICATION: To Tionsbabe - if there was any justice in the world, I'm sure you would be!
"Sex! That's all they think about! How will they ever become warriors when they think with their balls instead of their brains? These boys are supposed to be my future Companions and they're more interested in who's doing what to whom down by the lake at night than they are in listening to Aristotle's teachings! If I had my way I'd send them all back home! Then Aristotle could concentrate on teaching you and me – after all, we're the only ones who really understand him!"
Hephaestion listens to Alexander's tirade in silence. What, in the end, can he say? When they had first come to Mieza Alexander had seemed quite innocently unaware of the increasingly charged and complex love-lives of the boys he had grown up with; he scorned gossip and when he talked it was of war, history, philosophy, hunting, books or horses. When he and Hephaestion were alone, his trust in his friend having deepened since they had been sharing a room, he began to confide more private concerns – his hopes and dreams, his secret fears. Occasionally he criticised the other boys for their lax attitude to their studies, their frequent spats and their general disobedience. But then Hephaestion persuaded him to go to the lake and in doing so ripped the blindfold off Alexander's eyes.
"Do you think I should tell Aristotle?" Alexander asks suddenly, gripped by anxiety, "after all, I feel I should take responsibility for them; one day, by the will of Zeus, I should be their Commander – how can I see their lack of discipline and do nothing?" He watches Hephaestion's face closely as he adds, "do you think that would make me a traitor? Hephaestion...?" he prompts, when his friend does not reply.
"They're just boys, Alexander," Hephaestion answers at last, his eyes fixed upon the floor, "besides, Aristotle probably knows already."
"What – how do you know? You really think he knows they all sneak out at night, that they go down to the lake?"
"It's not as if they're really doing anything wrong," Hephaestion continues, sounding reluctant, "they're just… having fun."
Hephaestion cannot not suppress a sigh as he says it; right now the moon will be rising over the lake, as pure and beautiful as Artemis herself, and the boys will all be there, drinking wine, splashing in the water, laughing, telling their stupid bawdy jokes… and making love. He shivers. Alexander is standing so close to him that he can feel the heat of his body, can even feel his breath on the back of his neck. He knows what Alexander wants from him, but at this moment cannot trust himself to give it and not ask for anything else.
"I suppose you're right," Alexander concedes, "we don't need them, anyway, do we, Tion?" Alexander tries to keep his tone even, not to let a pleading note escape into it. Quickly he focuses on something easier to deal with. "Did you see the black eye Philotas had this morning? It was Cassander gave it to him – he'd caught Philotas kissing Iollas down by the lake. I don't understand it – I thought they were saying that boy from the village, the one who delivers the feed for the horses, was Philotas' beloved! And I heard that Ptolemy nearly got his jaw broken by some man at the market who accused him of trying to seduce his daughter! I think it's disgusting," he declares finally, "none of them really know what real love is about!"
"What is real love about, Alexander?" Hephaestion asks because he cannot stop himself. He loves it when Alexander talks of love; he makes it sound truly divine. But more than that, tonight he wants him to stop complaining about the habits of the other boys, as if he wasn't just a boy himself. A small moan escapes him as Alexander's arms slip around his waist from behind.
"Real love is noble, beautiful, unshakeable," Alexander breathes into his ear, apparently quite unconscious of the erotic thrill that it sends through his friend's body, "it is the true love of the heart and the soul… the pure love only two men can share. It is the love Achilles and Patroklos shared. There can only be one beloved for each of us, and you are mine."
As Alexander says this, he closes his eyes and tries to stop squeezing Hephaestion too hard. So often of late he feels a touch of panic when they are alone together; Hephaestion seems more and more distant, especially on nights like this when the moon is full. He seems restless. He won't take Alexander in his arms unless Alexander asks him to. He won't sleep in Alexander's bed unless Alexander invites him to. In spite of himself Alexander has begun to wonder if there is room in Hephaestion's heart for someone else besides him after all. "It's still early," he says softly, "what would you like to do?"
Hephaestion doesn't answer. His eyes are drawn yet again to the window and the moon beyond. He had honestly thought that if he got Alexander to come with him to the lake everything would be all right. Alexander had been reluctant to break the rules, but he had finally given in. Of course the others were there, most of them naked and splashing about in the cool, dark waters of the lake. He asked Alexander if he wanted to bathe too. Perhaps, in the depths of the water, he could touch Alexander as if by accident; perhaps as they splashed about he could kiss Alexander on the mouth and make out he was only playing, whereupon Alexander, loving his kiss, would ask him for another one. Or perhaps once they fell onto the bank, exhilarated and shivering, he could hold Alexander close against his naked body and let him feel his desire while he pretended to be trying to keep them both warm. But Alexander did not want to bathe; he kept gazing censoriously at Leonnatus and Perdiccas, who were giggling together and touching one another as they shared a wineskin. It's what boys our age do, Hephaestion had wanted to say, it's natural and healthy. But then Alexander said coldly, "it's not even as if they really love each other!" and what could Hephaestion say to that? He still hasn't decided what he really wants - to bring Alexander down to his level or to raise himself to Alexander's. Surely there has to be some middle ground? The philosophers, at least some of them, seemed to think so, seemed to think physical love could be as worthy as the spiritual kind, so long as it did not define the relationship of the lovers, but only complimented it…
"Hephaestion?" Alexander has to prompt Hephaestion again; he's lost himself in another of those deep muses. "Shall we read for a while? My new books have arrived, shall we look at them?" He wishes Hephaestion would return to being his old defiant, stubborn, confident self – these days he is so quiet and he has begun to treat Alexander with a sort of circumspection, a deference he never used before, as if he is frightened of Alexander turning on him. But why should he? He has always loved Hephaestion's independent spirit, his willingness to tell Alexander when he doesn't agree with him.
And there's that look he catches Hephaestion giving him lately – somewhere between a lost fawn and a stalking lion, as if he doesn't know whether he wants to throw himself into Alexander's protective embrace or pounce on him and eat him alive. "Tion?" he asks, hating the note of panic heightening his voice, "tell me what you want to do…?"
I want to take you down to the lake. I want to see your beautiful silvery eyes reflect the moonlight, I want to see the water glistening on your naked body. I want to hear you laugh with pleasure as you come to lie with me on the damp grass… I love you, I love you, but to say it, to think it, to feel it… it's just not enough. "I'd rather just go to bed," Hephaestion says, avoiding Alexander's gaze.
Alexander stares at him, feeling anxiety tightening in his gut. For a moment he doesn't know what to say. "Aren't you feeling well?" he asks finally, hoping Hephaestion will sense his concern and try to reassure him, but Hephaestion shakes his head.
"I'm just tired," he says very softly as he moves over to his own bed, stripping off his clothes and throwing them onto a chair before drawing back the bedclothes. Alexander still watches him. The space between where he stands by his desk and Hephaestion's bed suddenly seems vast. He thinks for a moment, chewing at his lip. Hephaestion has been quiet since the time they went to the lake with the other boys. Alexander had not liked what he saw there – his friends, his future Companions, abandoning themselves to the pleasures of the flesh. It made him nervous and irritable as he saw them glancing at him and Hephaestion, as if watching to see if they were going to join in. Hephaestion had reached out and drawn Alexander close; his smile had been soft and intimate and had made Alexander's breath catch. And then he had kissed Alexander, not on the cheek or even on the lips but on the shoulder, which sent a strange, prickling sensation over his skin and made him feel a little dizzy. When Hephaestion wanted to kiss him again he pushed him away, suddenly conscious of the eyes of the other boys. "Not here, Hephaestion," he had whispered restlessly, "you know what the others are like – they keep can't keep their minds out of the latrines and I'm fed up of them gossiping!" The words had come out harsher than Alexander had intended and Hephaestion had drawn away looking crestfallen.
Now Hephaestion lies down in his bed and rolls over onto his side, his back to Alexander. He knows Alexander is watching him; still he keeps silent, hoping his friend will just go to his own bed and go to sleep. If he doesn't, if he continues to stand there, waiting for something more, he will get more than he bargained for. He will get the truth.
I want it to be with us like it is with the others boys. I want to be with you the way the other boys are with each other. The things the other boys are doing with each other… I want to do those things with you. I want to kiss you and touch you. I want to stroke you, to feel your hardness, I want us to stroke each other's hardness the way I've seen the others do. I want to see desire for me in your eyes. I want you to be my lover.
How magical that night by the river might have been had Alexander returned his ardour. It had struck him like physical pain, watching the other boys touching, not being able to touch Alexander. Leonnatus and Perdiccas playing about with each other… they weren't in love, as Alexander said, but they were friends and obviously trusted each other and what did it really matter if they were enjoying themselves? Other couples had formed too - Hephaestion saw big, handsome Philotas wading into the lake with his latest blue-eyed conquest, one of the stable-hands by the look of him. That cool, scented air was alive with giggles and whispers and soft moans which sent shivers down Hephaestion's spine. So of course he had turned to Alexander and kissed him, on his smooth, pale shoulder which seemed so invitingly exposed. He had hoped to kiss him on collar bone next, then on the cheek, then on the lips. He had choreographed the whole scene in his mind, even down to the sighs Alexander would utter and the tingling warmth of his hands as they slipped up Hephaestion's back. Once he gave in to his feelings at last, Alexander would be quick and impatient and unstoppable, just as he was in everything else. He would not let Hephaestion refuse him anything - not that Hephaestion would.
But Alexander had rejected him, even scolded him as if he was an irritating child demanding honey-cakes before his dinner. And Hephaestion had looked about them at the various couples and had felt so lonely.
But then he had gathered his strength. Alexander had not actually rejected him, only said he didn't want to do anything in front of the others. Or so Hephaestion reasoned. So he had said in an eager whisper, "why don't we cross the lake? It's nice and private in the woods on the other side, we could be alone together…"
And Alexander had looked at him as if he had just told him to slap himself across the face. "What for?" Alexander asked. "Anyway, it's too cold. Come on, let's go back."
Alexander still watches Hephaestion, uncertain what to do. Perhaps Hephaestion just wants to be left alone, but to go to his own bed now, without even the exchange of a few tender words, without any reassurance that everything is all right between them, seems terrible. Cursing himself for needing too much, for being a coward, he slips very quietly into Hephaestion's bed. He has never found the warmth of Hephaestion's body quite so intoxicating. He feels light-headed, even more so for not being able to draw into the warmth. Alexander has always been affectionate, doubly so with Hephaestion, but suddenly he thinks of the kiss upon his shoulder in the moonlight and the words, we could be alone together, which at the time had struck him as absurd, because they could be alone together in their room, but which tonight take on a whole new meaning, and he is filled with doubts.
Hephaestion knows Alexander is lying beside him but he does not move. His body is responding, of course, warmth is spreading through his belly, his loins, his thighs; his skin prickles when Alexander's arm brushes against his back and his ears are alert to the soft sound of Alexander's breathing. He cannot go on like this. The only way to get Alexander out of his bed seems to be to quarrel with him, to pick a fight over nothing. Alexander's short temper will do the rest. But Hephaestion cannot do it; he knows how much it hurts Alexander when he thinks Hephaestion is tired of him. It's not as though Alexander admits it, but there are some things he can't hide. If Hephaestion sends him away to his bed on a sour note Alexander will find it hard to sleep, and if he does his dreams will be bad. And in the morning his eyes will be shadowed and desolate and he will not come to Hephaestion for comfort unless Hephaestion goes to him first.
He thinks yet again of the boys by the river. Alexander had walked away that night, striding purposefully, expecting Hephaestion to follow. But Hephaestion had hesitated. And then, as he had finally started back, dragging his feet in disappointment, someone had caught him around the ankle…
Alexander wants Hephaestion to take him in his arms, to let him put his head upon his breast so that he can listen to the beating of his heart while Hephaestion strokes his hair. Though he finds it difficult to admit to, he has come to love Hephaestion's touch. Why is this? He tells himself it is because Hephaestion touches him with love. But he knows there's more to it than that.
He is forced to recall an incident which still makes him cringe, though really, there should be no shame in it. He had been talking with some of the soldiers who had returned from campaigning with his father, wanting to hear their stories but also wanting to get to know the soldiers themselves, to understand their hopes and fears, to know their needs. They love to boast and brag but they also like to laugh at themselves and each other, perhaps to make sense of all the glorious yet terrible things they have seen or done. And they particularly like to do so in the company of someone who is young and attractive and still a little innocent. Alexander listened to their talk, knowing much of it was exaggeration but never challenging them. Each one had risked his life for Macedon, after all.
A mercenary from one of the Islands had been with their group. It was not as if the man was repulsive - he was quite young and very handsome and spoke pure, elegant Southern Greek. And he had meant no harm; the others called the prince "Alexander" and how was he, a new recruit, to know that this blonde haired boy, brazenly chatting to them, was someone special? But when Alexander had started back for the palace, the young man had slipped his arm about him - not roughly, but quite suggestively, and smiled at him and asked him Alexander if he was spending the night alone. Struck dumb, Alexander had shrugged. Then the soldier had whispered that Alexander was "so pretty" and tried to take him in his arms. But his touch, the meaningful look in his eyes, the very scent of him revolted Alexander and he had pushed him away and cursed him. The young man had looked more hurt than angry; he had simply asked Alexander if he was already someone else's eromenos. To which Alexander had exploded, "I am no-one's eromenos! I am Prince Alexander, son of Philip and you have no right to touch me!" The man had drawn back, startled and embarrassed, mumbling apologies. Alexander had turned on his heel and left him there. He had not told Hephaestion about it, though whether it was the soldier's proposition or his own overreaction he was more ashamed of, he did not know.
And then there were the women his mother constantly threw in his path - they disgusted him with their make-up and their heavy perfume and their soft, voluptuous bodies and that air of decadence and knowledge which seemed a world away from the likes of gentle, noble Andromache who loved her Hector with such devotion or tender-hearted Briseis who had wept when taken from Achilles and wailed and torn at her own breast in mourning for Patroklos. Sex! Why did everyone have to think and talk constantly of sex!
And yet there is Hephaestion's touch…
But tonight Hephaestion stays lying on his side, not moving, not touching, his arms folded protectively against his chest as if to keep Alexander away.
Hephaestion is thinking still of the lake. In particular what happened after Alexander had left him. It was Erigyius who caught hold of his leg, but both he and Laomedon smiled up at him. The brothers, older than he and Alexander, youths who have known Alexander far longer than Hephaestion has, always love to tease Hephaestion and he doesn't mind. Actually, though he doesn't say so to Alexander, he's quite flattered by their attention; they're both personable and intelligent and he knows their intentions aren't serious at least as long as Alexander is still interested in him. But though they smiled playfully at him that night, he knew they had seen Alexander reject him, and there was something new in Erigyius' expression - sympathy, but also calculation. "Alexander's still young," he said wisely, "either that or he's both blind and stupid." Both brothers grunted with laughter, in spite of Hephaestion's indignation.
"Come on, you know we love him," Laomedon said mildly, "that doesn't stop either of us wanting to love you too!"
Hephaestion wasn't in the mood to be teased. Erigyius was still holding his leg and his long, calloused fingers were now caressing it too. "I have to go back," he said half-heartedly. He tried to move but the grip tightened, pinching his calf. "Let me go!"
"Give me a kiss, first, lovely Hephaestion," Erigyius grinned up at him, looking too impish to arouse Hephaestion's anger. And then something in him rebelled, demanding he defy Alexander, who was keeping him sick with frustration night after night yet expecting him to sleep in his bed and hold him and receive his chaste kisses. And Hephaestion crouched down and kissed Erigyius' mouth. The kiss was longer than he had intended; nor was he ready for the surge of desire leaping up through his body. He pulled away, startled and confused.
"You can't kiss him and leave me with nothing," Laomedon had said; his eyes were bright with mirth but Hephaestion chose to take him literally and leaned down to kiss him too. Again, there was desire. Pure, physical lust, quite unlike what he felt for Alexander - so there was a difference, as he had always suspected there might be, yet he could hardly offer this as an example to win his friend over.
Hephaestion had left them then, heading back to the school with his cheeks burning and his head swimming. Now, as he lies, tormented by his desires, he resolves that if Alexander really doesn't want him he'll go to the lake alone. And whoever wants him can have him.
Propping himself on one elbow, Alexander looks down at Hephaestion in silence. How handsome Hephaestion is growing, Alexander thinks, hovering between pride and envy. He knows people remark upon his own looks; he knows they call him "pretty." And he knows that it's true. But it's struck him more and more often as he catches sight of himself in a glass that that is what he'll always be – pretty. While Hephaestion will be beautiful; just as it's said in the Iliad, a man like a god. Gossip says Alexander doesn't look like Philip. He tells himself he doesn't want to look like Philip and he deliberately preens and oils and perfumes himself to spite the gossips. He suspects he'll never have much of a beard so he's already resolved to stay clean-shaven. He's determined to make his beauty his own. When he is king, he'll set the example what a Macedonian looks like and all the others will copy him. All the same he has sometimes wondered if Philip would prefer a son like Hephaestion… Butpride wins over envy. How can Alexander begrudge Hephaestion his beauty when the gods themselves have granted him Hephaestion's love? Alexander brushes back Hephaestion's hair, kisses him just behind the ear.
Suddenly Hephaestion turns over onto his back, looking up at Alexander with dark eyes which seem to glow in the dim light. "I love you, Alé," he says; that treasured name, saved for special moments, sends a thrill of pleasure through Alexander's body.
"I love you too, Tion..."
Hephaestion continues to gaze into his eyes. He feels as though he is being consumed by a fever; that if he doesn't act now, if he doesn't do something, even if it costs him Alexander's love, it will drive him into a raving delirium. He has no choice – he is hard now, his loins are throbbing, perspiration is dripping from his skin onto the sheets beneath him. In a moment Alexander will want to hold him, to lie against him the way Hephaestion knows he likes, and he will know the truth anyway. "Alé…" he begins.
Alexander finds it hard to breathe. He can feel Hephaestion's anxiety. "I know, Tion," he says sadly, "you'd sooner be at the river."
"Yes," Hephaestion says, and to Alexander's surprise and confusion he smiles. "With you."
Hephaestion smiles because he finally has an answer to give. Alexander is right; the other boys probably don't love each other. But surely if he and Alexander become lovers, loving each other as they do, won't it be so much better, so much sweeter, so much nobler than anything the other boys can share? If Alexander cannot understand that, then perhaps their love is not what Hephaestion has thought it is. Or perhaps in spite of everything he feels, it is not what the gods intended for them after all. Either way, tonight he will know. And though the thought of losing Alexander's love frightens him, he knows he will finally have some sort of peace.
Alexander gasps softly as Hephaestion leans up, puts one of his big, gentle hands against Alexander's cheek and softly kisses him. There is no mistaking this kiss or the feelings that lie behind it. He wants to pull back, to tell Hephaestion this should not happen, but Hephaestion's mouth is so warm and welcoming and even when the kiss deepens Alexander cannot stop his tongue meeting Hephaestion's or slipping in to explore the heat and the taste of the other boy's mouth. Nor can he fight when Hephaestion pulls him down on top of himself, his hands gripping Alexander's bottom, and he feels the almost painful press of his friend's erection against his belly.
"Are we really to be… just like the other boys?" Alexander whispers plaintively, stricken not because of Hephaestion's weakness but because of his own, because he cannot find the will, or the desire, to stop this happening.
"Is that such a bad thing, Alé?" Hephaestion asks, trying to remain calm though he is even now afraid Alexander will change his mind. "If we love each other?"
Alexander tries to think of a clever answer. But for once in his life he is lost for words. He sighs in surrender and leans to kiss Hephaestion again, but the other boy pushes him back. "Not here," he says with sparkling eyes, "not when the moon is full." Alexander hesitates at that, watching Hephaestion rise and reach for his clothes. Seeing his reluctance, Hephaestion's gaze softens. "I've dreamed of it, Alé…" he says quietly, "of making love to you in the moonlight, by the lake… I've dreamed of it for so long…"
Hephaestion is not sure how his words will be received. But something sparks in Alexander's eyes and suddenly he knows they have given Alexander more pleasure than he probably wants to admit to. "Have you really...?" he asks quickly, then puts a hand to his lips as if he had not meant the words to escape. Moving silently back to him, Hephaestion draws Alexander's hand away and kisses him. Alexander blinks, then his face lights up with a smile that is beautiful and filled with joy and Hephaestion, smitten with love all over again, wraps his arms covetously around him.
As they set off at last, moving as stealthily as thieves through the shadowy grounds, holding hands, Alexander feels a curious thrill of excitement that is not just the building of passion. He is doing something other boys do, he is behaving just like them, he is one of the crowd, and, just for a little while, it feels good not to have to be different, to be better, to be alone.
They find the others there, of course; they wave and call out. Erigyius grins at them and tosses Hephaestion a wineskin, winking suggestively at Alexander but saying nothing. The prince frowns, but when Hephaestion kisses his cheek and draws him away towards the lake, he forgets that the others are there and that he will be the first subject of their breakfast gossip when the morning comes. Tonight, he tells himself as they make their way to the water's edge, tonight is all that matters.
Hephaestion barely feels the cold as they wade into the water and race one another to the far side of the lake, diving down and splashing and grabbing at one another. He is warm inside and out, happiness and relief radiate through his body. When at last they are on the bank, their playfulness alters to almost desperate passion as they kiss and embrace, fumbling in their inexperience and their eagerness to give and take pleasure.
Hephaestion has fantasised about this night after restless night; each night his fantasies have grown more vivid, more complex, and more adventurous. He would love to do so many things with Alexander; yet now they are really together all he can think to do is touch him and kiss him as much as he can.
Alexander cannot help the moans and sighs which escape him as Hephaestion's hands and lips caress him and but it doesn't matter because he doesn't feel weak or low; the only emotion he experiences is excitement. Suddenly adventurous, he slides himself on top of his friend's body, letting their erections rub against each other. The sensation surprises and delights them both and with a mischievous grin Alexander begins to push down with his hips; as pleased with Hephaestion's breathless laughter as with the sensations in his own body.
Too soon it is over. Hephaestion lies very still, afraid to disturb the moment, Alexander's head upon his breast. He cannot stop himself stroking back Alexander's hair, damp from the lake and warm from his recent exertions. But soon the perspiration begins to cool on their skin and it grows too cold to stay; they do not exchange a word as they rise and begin to make their way back along the curve of the lake, though Alexander reaches and takes Hephaestion's hand. At last they reach their discarded clothes, pausing only to wash themselves in the cold, fresh water.
Alexander raises his head. Above him, the moon still glows with its cold, silvery light, surrounded by an attentive entourage of glittering stars. Hephaestion's eyes catch the moon's glow as they shift briefly to Alexander's face, then shift away. Alexander wants to say so many things to him, yet no words will come.
"I'd like to do this again," Hephaestion says suddenly. His heart begins to quicken as he realises how his words sound and he quickly adds, "to come to the lake like this, I mean. Another night." He cannot help holding his breath as he waits for Alexander to answer.
"Yes," Alexander replies, his eyes downcast. All at once smoothing out the creases in his chiton seems to have become vitally important to him. "Another night…"
Doubt grows in Hephaestion, gradually forming leadenly into a gloomy certainty. Alexander has been taught to take everything in moderation, to deny himself luxury and pleasure, to fight his own weakness at every turn. Will Hephaestion now spend day after day, evening after evening, vainly hoping for the rare night when Alexander will allow himself to break the rules again? The thought is unendurable. "When?" he blurts out before he can stop himself.
Alexander looks up sharply, thankfully leaving his chiton alone, and their gazes meet through the shadows. Hephaestion hears Alexander draw in a deep breath, and then a coy little smile curves his friend's lips. "Tomorrow?" Alexander offers.
Hephaestion grins happily and pulls Alexander into a tight embrace. "Tomorrow…"